


Seeing the Pain (Seeing the Pleasure)

by dormant_bender



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Characters Reading Fanfiction, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Naked Cuddling, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:44:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6367792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rafinha finds Fanfiction on the internet, and entices Marc into reading it</p><p>;or the one where they reenact what they read.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing the Pain (Seeing the Pleasure)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm ashamed. This is filthy. Oh God.
> 
> (( literally just wrote this and will probably edit tomorrow morning xx ))

Fingers prod absently at his split lip, wincing slightly at the pain that resides there, before snatching up the opened bottle of water that rests upon the counter. Grateful for the coolness that soothes the reddened area, the male caps the bottle and discards the bottle within the refrigerator. 

Hands sift throughout all the leftovers left within the fridge, which was mostly Rafinha's fault—he had ordered a variety of things that week, and hadn't the stomach to actually eat it all. Said man had been sleeping over at his place since his own flat was apparently too lonely and quiet for his taste, which was why there was music blaring within the guest room that was rarely used.

An affectionate smile spreads across his lips regardless though as he retrieves whatever his hands touched first, which was leftover chicken and noodles from last night when Rafinha had ordered Chinese, and went to the microwave to heat it up. He taps his foot anxiously and stares into the faintly lit machine that whirls around in tiny, clockwise circles when it finally dings.

When he removes it from the microwave, the smell assaults his sense, leaving him heady with the scent when he hears a bewildered—or amused?—shriek echo from within the guestroom. Cerulean eyes roll on their own volition, figuring the Brazilian was being dramatic as always, before snatching up the container—along with a pair of chopsticks, mostly because Rafinha struggled using them and it was fun pissing him off about his expertise—and sauntering off towards the door frame of the room.

He peers in quizzically, a brow quirking in inquisition, as he maneuvers the chopsticks to pluck up a piece of chicken to nibble on: "What weird Youtube video have you discovered now, Rafa?"

Rafinha motions towards him without glancing away from the laptop screen, though he apparently sniffs out the chicken and noodles, glancing back with a feigned pout. "Gonna offer me some of that or—..?" Then his eyes are narrowing slightly as he takes in the sight of the slender chopsticks, snickering to himself. "Funny. But Ney taught me how to use those, so your plan of pissing me off failed." Marc's face falters slightly but Rafinha's only glows with a small smile twitching on the corners of his lips. "But anyway, it's not a Youtube video this time, you asshole. It's, well—" Hands leans out of the way of the screen where a bunch of tiny letters are littered upon the screen.

Marc sucks up a group of noodles that are clustered together as he walks over, offering a dollop of noodles on the chopsticks towards Rafinha, who gratefully opens his mouth and sucks at them noisily. "You're so obnoxious sometimes," and the darker of the two only winks playfully as he picks up the laptop and thrusts it towards the German. "I don't get it, Rafa.. What am I looking at?"

He receives a snort from the Brazilian who leans back on the bed on his elbows, nodding towards the spot beside him. "Your pure, innocent little eyes aren't incapable of reading, are they?" Marc scowls slightly but cracks a smile as he plops beside the man, crosses a leg beneath his form, then proceeds to read whatever peculiar thing he had discovered, Chinese food all but forgotten beside him.

"Since when do you read anything other than Sports articles?" Russet arms are pushing off the bed to wrap an arm around Marc's shoulder, resting his chin upon it, his own eyes glancing over the screen once more. "Okay, so.." Rafinha attempts to contain a smirk as he watches the variety of emotion that flickers across the latter's countenance, his brows furrowing tightly, before he glances down at the brunet. "This is—Uh," comes the clear of his throat as awkwardly shifts beneath the latter's gaze. "This is about us." Suddenly he feels heat rise to both his cheeks and beneath the shorts he currently adorns, gulping deeply, as he continues to read.

"Yeah.. One of the fans linked it to me on Twitter, and I was curious, so I opened it and—There it is." It's then that the smirk plasters fully across his lips as he leans forward to scroll down the screen, more than eager to read more.

Marc peels his eyes away from an amused Rafael and instead focuses back on the screen, head canting slightly to the side, bumping into the latter's who hisses in Portuguese: "You don't think it's, uh, weird? Reading about this?"

"Nah. The only thing that's weird is that the fans think you bottom." Rafinha murmurs to himself as he narrows his eyes to read the small text, "alright, look. read this part." Of course the blond nods because he can't ever refuse Rafinha—which is actually kind of disturbing, really. "No, no, no. I meant aloud."

"Rafa—"

"Marquinho.."

A pale tongue makes an appearance to sweep along his lower lip as he clears his throat once more, tugging at the collar of his plain white shirt. "Okay, okay.. Uh—.. Okay." He finds where he left off and takes a deep breath, " _'Marc stares into the bright, chocolate eyes of the man that hovers above him, whimpering deeply within his throat, as he arches into the warmth that his body provides.'_ " He pauses for a moment to glance at a snickering Rafinha, " _'Rafael leans forward to pepper kisses along the length of his jaw, 'Tell me what you want, Ter, and I'll give it to you.' It should be illegal to keen like that, Rafael muses to himself, as he hushes the man and glides a hand down the length of his smooth torso, nails bluntly sliding along the skin.'_ " 

Rafinha releases a soft sigh that sounds more like a whistle as he shifts his face to press it into the column of the latter's smooth, milky neck. "I don't hear you complaining anymore, meu amor." He teases low in his throat, that husky tone familiar and leaving the blond to close his eyes for a moment. "Keep going, yeah? É espécie de quente."

It's far too difficult to focus on coherent thought when there are a pair of plump lips and warm breath tickling the side of your neck but somehow he manages. " _'—Finally his hand reaches its destination between the German's thighs, who releases a shuddering breath in response, to offer him a stroke; once, twice, thrice until his hips are bucking into the fist his hand makes—..'_ Du hast recht. es ist eine Art heiß."

"Mhmm..." Lips mouth at the milky expanse of skin presented to him, nipping gently at the flesh, one of his hands sliding beneath the thin t-shirt the other is wearing. "Told you so, but I'm obnoxious, yeah?"

Marc tilts his head further to the side to offer the brunet better access to his skin, nodding softly, sucking in a soft breath. "More so when I'm fucking you into the mattress." Lips stutter with their administrations against his skin and a small, smug skin appears upon his split lips. 

The pad of his fingers trace one of his nipples absently as he kisses more along his neck, halting to offer it a pinch none-too-gently, making the blond grunt. "Is that what you want, Marquinho?"

Large hands are already closing the top of the laptop and he's thrusting it away from the vicinity of their bodies, not acknowledging the Chinese food that still lingers beside him, and ends up kicking it to the floor as occupies himself with crawling onto the awaiting Brazilian. Plump lips are parted in a broad grin as he spreads his legs so the latter falls into them, hands fisting the front of his shirt, ultimately tugging him forward until their mouths are pressed flush.

Marc wanted to make a retort but was too high on the taste of Rafinha to utter one. The thought dies quickly when he feels warm fingers brushing along his abdomen as they hook within the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over the blond's head in one, swift movement. Russet hands are everywhere at once as they grip and run along every smooth surface of Marc's chest, his nails bluntly scraping along the skin of his abs, before trailing lower.

"Rafa... Fuck.." Comes his breathy whisper as he rests his forehead against the latter's, breathing steady at first, until the hand finally dips beneath the shorts to palm him through the material of his briefs.

"Patience, meu amor." Rafinha utters in a scolding manner as he occupies himself with tugging off the shorts that the latter still adorns, receiving assistance from up above, until both garments are removed and lingering somewhere near the foot of the bed. "Tell me what you want, Marc, and I'll give it to you."

Another breath through his nose and an exhale through his mouth and there breath are mingling between them. "I just want you, just how you are. Want you to touch me, want to make love to you. Can I?"

Its his turn to gasp as he squeezes the male tightly within his hand but he nods vigorously in response as he hooks his fingers in them hem of his own shirt, tugging it over his head, and tossing it carelessly onto the floor. Marc slaps his hands away, however, when it comes to his shorts. His thin, reddened lips are peppering opened mouth kisses down the length of his chest, pausing to nip and tug on his neglected nipples, then trail further down until reaching the hem of his shorts.

Cerulean eyes glance up at the brunet, finding his chest heaving against the sheets, eyes wide and practically pleading as he offers a nod. With that the blond gingerly slides the shorts down to find the male wearing underneath and he stares hungrily at the sight of his half-hard cock that rests upon his abdomen. He licks at his lips, wetting his reddened mouth, and engulfs him in one movement.

Russet hands move impressively fast to fist within the blond's hair while the other grips at the sheets for purchase, his hips already shifting up in favor of the heat Marc's mouth provides. "Meu deus," is the Portuguese that spews wantonly from his lips as he tugs gently upon the soft hairs within his grasp, "Mais. Me dê mais."

And the blond is more than eager to oblige as he grips at the smooth expanse of mocha thighs, running his hands up and down the taut muscle, alternatively squeezing in their wake. All the while his lips are withdrawn from his cock to suckle fervently at the head, the sound sinful in the otherwise quiet one, save for the breathing above him. One of his hands grips him at the base then, stroking him in restrained movements, while his mouth occupies itself with sucking at the vein on the underside of his cock that he feels pulsing against his lips.

"So good, Marc.. So good at sucking cock.." He threads his fingers adoringly through his blond locks as he praises him, hips bucking into his mouth at a particularly hard suck, then is reduced to nothing but broken moans and sharp gasps.

Marc shifts then to bobbing his head at a slow, rhythmic pace and he allows his eyes to flutter to a content close as he focuses on the task. The fingers within his hair are tightening now, unbearably slow, but he can only register as pleasure as he moans around the mouthful of Rafinha's cock; said male choking on a moan, pre-cum dribbling through the head of his cock, the bitter substance making the blond hum even more.

"Wait, wait—Fuck, Marc.. St-stop—.." The Brazilian's chest is heaving as he tugs once more on the soft, blond locks until the male groans to a halt. Beautiful blues finally open to peer up at him, lips moist and wet, and the brunet has to stifle a groan at just the sight. "Need you.."

And that was all he needed to say on the subject and Marc was making quick work of reaching within his nightstand to withdraw a small bottom of half-empty lube—don't blame him, Rafinha adored jacking off on Skype and he reveled at the sight of seeing him come un-done. He shakes it up a bit before squirting a decent amount onto his fingers, the brunet shifting slightly on the bed, pressing a pillow beneath his back.

Marc offers him a small, reassuring grin as he uses his hand to spread the lube onto his cock, stroking himself to the sight of Rafinha, who nibbles at his lower lip at the sight of Marc. When he's decidedly slick, mostly by Rafinha's terms at least, he hovers over him once more and lines himself up with the latter's entrance.

Chocolate eyes glance up into pools of ocean as the blond enters him, slowly, his hips restrained as he presses inside the hot, tight heat of Rafael's body. Said male hisses at the sensation, not unpleasantly so, and sinks his nails into Marc's ass, desperate for more of the thickness that fills him.

"M-marc.."

"Shh," the blond silences him with a soft, tender kiss as he thrusts his hips forward the remaining of the distance until he's sheathed fully into the brunet who gasps within Marc's mouth.

Hands clench into the bunched sheets at either side of the brunet's head and his mouth withdraws from the latter's to place warm kissing along the column of his russet neck as he snaps his hips back only to roll them forward and into the slick heat Rafinha's body offers him. It starts off slow and languid as Marc moves his hips with lack of coordinated motion, relearning each lascivious movement their bodies make. 

His mouth never relents, however, as he sucks a possessive bruise where his pulse is strongest; he nips and soothed it with his tongue after, a litany of Portuguese spewing from trembling lips. He chuckles darkly against his skin as he trails toward his ear, mouthing at the lobe there, before allowing his breath to tickle along the shell of the appendage. 

Teeth gently tug at the cartilage when he feels Rafael's idle thighs hook around his waist, both of his heels digging insistently against his ass. "Always so impatient, meu amor." Murmurs the German in broken Portuguese as he offers the lad a powerful thrust, Rafinha's body arching upward into the contours of Marc's body at the impact.

"You feel so good," growls Rafinha as he digs the back of his head into the sheets, attempting to control his labored breathing.

Hips move slow and languid as he seeks out rhythm, eventually rising onto his knees, tugging on the latter's thighs until he complies. Marc releases a husky grunt at the new angle, Rafael mulling loudly at the sensation, one of his idle hands find his cock and stroking himself in time with the thrusts that wracks throughout his entire body.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is almost as loud and obnoxious as the litany of groans and grunts that fill the room; but it's erotic nonetheless, as Marc glances down to where their bodies are so blissfully connected, ivory teeth sinking painfully deep into his lower lip as he focuses on bringing the Brazilian pleasure.

One of his hands grips into the latter's hips, nails digging gently into the skin, while the other slaps his hand away in favor of stroking him himself; hand firm as it twists and turns upon the upstroke, squeezing when he reaches the head, and then repeating the administrations. Rafael is blindly reaching for Marc's body then, something entirely different about the hand that touches him, feels so much better than his own.

"Gonna, fuck.. Gonna cum soon.." Rafinha warns as he reaches for Marc's neck, hand going around the back, holding him firmly in place as he stares up at him. "M-marc," he splutters out weakly as he arches his back once more and moves his hips in sync with the blond's.

Marc takes heeds his warning and speeds up the movement of his hips until they're twitching and moving sporadically as his thighs slap against Rafael's, the sound making him heady as it resonates within his ear drums, along with the sound of the male's labored breathing. But his hand doesn't relent and neither do his hips as grunts upon delivering a powerful thrust, his body beginning to tremble, as he too nears his peak.

The pressure in his abdomen is becoming far too unbearably as it pulses in-time with his cock, sending his mind on a fervent frenzy, but he fights the blissful call of release and instead focuses on Rafael and his needs. He feels the familiar clench and un-clench of the male's walls around his aching cock and like that he releases, lips parted in a beautiful 'o' with Marc's name singed on his lips, followed by a variety of curses in Portuguese, Spanish, and even German.

And he thrusts once, twice, thrice before he, too, is releasing within the male after a deep thrust until he's buried to the hilt. His hips twitch sporadically against the latter as he rides the waves of bliss; his mind is consumed in thick fog but still Rafael's face is clear within his vision. His hand is trembling as he strokes him through his high, the feel of his nails digging crescents into the skin on his neck adding to his own pleasure. 

Marc hunches forward, placing both hands on either side of Rafael's head once more, their chests pressed flush together and stained in the milky, white substance that coats both of their abdomens. Rafinha presses against the back of Marc's head until he nestles into the crook of his perspired neck, their labored breathing the only audible sound, other than the faint music still playing in the background.

"W-we should.. Really read more of those stories.." Marc quips after a moment, which earns a breathless laugh from Rafael, who strokes his fingers down the length of Marc's back now.

"Yeah?" Pads of his fingers trail along the ridges of his spinal cord, making him shiver slightly.

Marc presses warm kisses to the side of his neck and he reluctantly withdraws from the male's body to instead lay beside him. Rafinha shifts until his back is pressed against the latter's front, pressing his ass back against Marc's now flaccid cock. One pale arm slides around the brunet's russet-colored waist, tugging him impossibly close, before resting his chin on top of his disheveled locks.

"Can't believe we're cuddling," murmurs Rafinha as he cuddles back into the warmth Marc's body provides, snorting to himself.

"I read somewhere that good sex makes people do cliche things like that."

Rafael rolls his drowsy eyes as he allows them to flutter to a satisfied close, "Dork."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay? Good? Iffy? Bad?
> 
> Lemme know? I love these two *-*


End file.
